


Status Symbol

by ApocalypseThen



Series: The Story of A [3]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Butt Plugs, Chastity Device, Destroy Ending, F/F, Pregnancy Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-05-03 12:45:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5291390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApocalypseThen/pseuds/ApocalypseThen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashley isn't happy to find out that she's been tricked. But it's too late, she's already under the knife. What is Shepard playing at? Is it all just a game to her? She finally makes sense of what Shepard's been trying to tell her, and gets the chance to act.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The buttplugs return in this instalment.

“Is she still awake?” Ashley heard Shepard's voice as if from under water.

“She can hear us,” replied a voice with an unmistakable Australian accent. “I didn't put her all the way under.”

“Can she see us?” asked Shepard. Ashley heard boots stomping around. The light that filtered through her eyelids diminished. She levered her eyelids open. It was an effort. It would be so much nicer just to sleep. “That's my girl,” said Shepard, a ruddy pink moon dominating her field of view. Ashley felt obscurely proud.

“How long do we have?” Shepard asked Miranda. Ashley's vision cleared slowly, focus returning.

“An hour for the procedure itself,” Miranda said. “Then another hour to run the diagnostics.”

“That should be long enough,” said Shepard, turning to Ashley with a smile that favoured one side of her mouth. “Do you need to watch it work?”

“It's all automated, Shepard,” Miranda said. Ashley watched as she came into focus, growing larger in her field of view. Her black and white catsuit, her limber curves, her perfectly arranged hair. Ashley remembered them well from their last encounter, at the party on the Citadel. She had changed that night, discovered a need within herself. She still didn't like to put a name to it. It scared her, how easily she had been taken, first by Miranda, then later by Shepard.

That was one reason she had agreed to undergo the procedure. Upgrades that would make her faster, stronger, more resilient. They would give her the edge. She wouldn't need to be anyone's toy from now on. She'd have the strength to resist.

Shepard made eye contact with Ashley and her grin grew broader, encompassing the whole of her mouth. As if she could read her thoughts.

“Miranda,” said Shepard, pulling an object out of her cargo pants. “Remember this?” She offered the smooth black egg to Miranda.

Miranda's breath hitched and her face flushed red. “Shepard...” she whispered. “But... it's been so long... I thought...”

“I never forget one of my girls, Miranda,” said Shepard, moving to stand close to her, raising the black buttplug between them, letting its tip graze the soft skin under Miranda's chin.

Ashley was unable to gasp, or shout, not with the breathing tube strapped to her face. She should be livid, she knew. She should be giving Shepard a piece of her mind. But the sedatives made strong emotions difficult to sustain.

Miranda had lied to her. She told her that she had turned down Shepard's advances when she had found out what form they took. How Shepard used her charms to persuade women to debase themselves for her, to carry a heavy symbol of their devotion in their rear ends. How she modelled each buttplug to evoke pleasure or pain depending on how she felt.

But Miranda had assured her that she had never succumbed to the temptation. That she had never submitted to Shepard's will, unlike so many of the others. She had told Ashley all of this, then had shown her what it felt like, had given her that unforgettable experience. Ashley still thought about the feeling of being stuffed full, the wicked plug in her ass tight against the strap-on that Miranda had thrust inside her other entrance. It had been the most intense experience of her life. She was glad she had done it, but she had only been persuaded to try it because she thought it would help her get over her crush on Shepard.

None of it had been true. Miranda had obviously been one of Shepard's harem of devoted submissives all along. Her seduction must have been by Shepard's command.

Miranda's eyes were demurely downcast. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as Shepard used the cool plug to trace the outline of her curves, running it over the tops of her breasts, down the side of her skintight uniform. Ashley watched as Shepard stole a kiss from Miranda's moist, slightly parted lips, too briefly for Miranda to engage. She felt nothing, even as the machines worked on her, replacing the marrow of her bones with the nanobots that would grow the upgrades within her.

“Pull them down,” said Shepard. Miranda hastened to obey her softly spoken command, her rush unseemly, her hunger starting to show.

Ashley was almost unsurprised to find that she wasn't the only one that Shepard kept in chastity. What had ever made her think that she was so special? She recognised the Cerberus tech panties that Miranda wore under her uniform, the same ones that she had worn for nearly two months now. Conforming, lightweight, but utterly impenetrable, they permitted arousal but not orgasm. 

Ashley had channelled her frustrated sexual energy into building her strength, and more importantly, her willpower. She had learned iron self-control. She had to keep it together when Shepard chose to tease her mercilessly, testing her to see if she valued pleasure above duty. Otherwise she would be dropped from the ground team. Shepard had plenty of fighters at her disposal. She had to be better than the rest.

At least, that was how she understood it. It was also possible Shepard was just plain nuts. Ashley hadn't quite had the courage to challenge her, to demand an end to the game. Shepard was still in charge. What if she threw Ashley off the Normandy? No doubt she would find a role elsewhere, another vital job in the war effort. But she wanted to be part of _this_ fight. She wanted to be by Shepard's side. They were doing great things. The most important things. 

Shepard fingered the little grey tab she kept on the chain by her dog-tags and Miranda's underwear loosened. “You know the drill, Miranda,” she said.

Miranda spread her arms wide and bent at the waist, holding herself up on a low laboratory bench. Shepard stood behind her, a little to the side. They both faced Ashley's suspended, immobilised form. Shepard's eyes met Ashley's and held her gaze as her arm moved behind Miranda's naked ass.

Miranda was biting her lip already, anticipation and pent-up desire combining to put her right on the edge straight away. Her eyes were closed, her features relaxed. Her breath shuddered out of her as Shepard did something delicately. 

“Shepard...” Miranda whispered, her throat tight with desire.

“Come on, Miranda,” Shepard replied, her gaze still fixed on Ashley. “Let me in. You remember how. Just relax, and let me in.”

“Unnnh,” Miranda moaned. It sounded like pleasure to Ashley, but it looked like pain from Miranda's face. Her brow had furrowed. Ashley saw sweat starting to make her neck and forehead glow in the harsh light of the laboratory.

“More, Miranda,” Shepard whispered. “Give me more.” With her free hand she stroked at Miranda's belly. Ashley saw the muscles there vibrate as Miranda struggled to control them.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Miranda mumbled to herself, repeating the words like a mantra. She inhaled through her nose dramatically.

“That's it,” said Shepard. “Good girl. Just a little more. You always take it so well.”

Miranda's eyes were wet and shining, tears collecting in the corners. “Just... just a second,” she begged. “Just hold it there.”

“It's not about how fast you take it,” Shepard reassured her. “It's how much you want it that I love.”

Miranda held herself perfectly still, nodding slightly as she tried to bring muscle groups under control, her big ring in particular. “I feel bad about lying to her,” she said.

“You shouldn't,” said Shepard, still looking Ashley in the eye. “It was for her own good. She's like you, Miranda. She just needed an attitude adjustment. To see things my way.” She smiled. “Our way.”

“Annnhh!” Miranda cried, screwing her eyes shut and tilting her head back.

“Great job,” said Shepard. She patted Miranda's back. “Good work.”

Ashley found herself inexplicably jealous of the praise that Shepard was lavishing on Miranda. She hated that she did. “Think you can stand?” Shepard asked.

“Maybe. Hold me?” Miranda replied. She put an arm on Shepard's shoulder and started to lever herself up. Her mouth formed an O as she stopped suddenly.

“OK?” asked Shepard.

“It's bigger than I remember,” said Miranda. “I feel... fuller.”

“I may have made a small adjustment,” admitted Shepard, smirking with the side of her mouth again.

“You're too good to me,” said Miranda. She turned her head and pulled Shepard in by the shoulder to brush their lips together.

Gradually Miranda straightened up to a standing position. She leaned back a little more than her usual perfect posture allowed, carefully balancing to avoid unnecessary motion. She placed a hand on her stomach. “God. I can really feel it,” she said.

Shepard worked Miranda's pants back up over her hips and helped her fasten them. Miranda gave a gasp as her buttocks were compressed together by the tight material, and the plug pressed deeper inside her. “Oh, Shepard...” she moaned.

Shepard moved out from behind her, coming around to perch on the front of the laboratory bench, facing Ashley. “Come join me,” she said.

It was only a few paces, but Miranda moved exquisitely slowly, a frown and a grin alternating on her face with each tiny step that she took. “Here I am, Commander,” she said as she arrived, finally.

“Let Williams have a look at you,” said Shepard. “Tell her how you feel.”

Miranda turned to face Ashley, one hand spread on her stomach, the other at her hip. “I'm so full,” she said. “It hurts, but... you know how that is. It's what Shepard wants.” She shrugged carefully, not letting her hips move as her shoulders lifted.

“Sit back,” said Shepard. “Lean on me.”

Miranda shuffled her feet backwards until she was standing between Shepard's spread legs. She bent her knees but could do nothing to support herself. She had to let Shepard catch her. She gasped and moaned as her ass made contact with Shepard's lap.

“I love it when you're like this,” said Shepard. “You're so careful. So cautious.” Shepard began to buck her hips gently, letting Miranda ride her lap.

“Oh,” said Miranda, letting her head roll back to rest on Shepard's shoulder. “Oh, that's amazing! Oh, Shepard.”

Shepard slipped her hands past Miranda's sides. She stroked her belly with one of them. “I love filling you up, Miranda,” she said. Her other hand dove between Miranda's legs. “I want to stuff your insides full.”

Miranda whimpered as Shepard's hand tickled and teased her through her tight pants. “I want it,” she said. “I want it.”

Shepard laid her hand flat on Miranda's stomach. Ashley tried to judge if it was just the odd position, or if she could really see her flat belly bulging forwards from the plug that filled her behind. As Shepard pressed lightly, Miranda squirmed and moaned. “I want to fill this up. I want to put a baby inside you,” she said.

Miranda's eyes flew open. Ashley saw tears in them. “You know I can't,” Miranda said. “I'm not right.”

“We'll figure it out,” said Shepard. “We'll make a baby grow inside you. Even if we have to make it outside. Imagine it. You'll be so huge. So stretched. So full.” Her hand twisted between Miranda's legs.

“Shepard,” Miranda cried. “Yes. Yes!”

“And I'll finger you, make you come while you're so big, when you can't get away from me,” Shepard whispered into Miranda's ear.

Miranda's features crinkled up. Her stomach muscles bulged with tension. Her feet rose from the floor. Shepard wrapped one arm around her to keep her from falling while continuing to grip and press between her legs.

“Oh!” Miranda cried softly as she came. “Oh!”

Shepard held her as she relaxed. They sat there for a while, Miranda perched on Shepard's lap. Ashley couldn't deny the sheer affection they had shown each other during the encounter. Shepard might have been clearly in charge, but she had been considerate and careful. Ashley felt a pang of envy even through the fog of sedative. It would be so easy to hate Shepard for her unusual proclivities. But she brought her infectious charm to everything she touched, buttplug and chastity included.

If only she would force herself on someone. Ashley could hate her properly, instead of being so thoroughly infatuated, completely desperate for her approval. She had even grown to understand that her own confinement by the Cerberus underwear wasn't any kind of game to Shepard, although she might pretend that it was. Ashley was being trained, she realised.

Submission had come first. A taste of the plug, to show her what it felt like to submit to the dark desires of another. Shepard had engaged Miranda to circumvent Ashley's pride, but it had been her pulling the strings.

Then there was control. Shepard had imposed chastity upon her at the earliest moment, on the slightest pretext. She wanted Ashley wound up tight, receptive to every nuance of her will, frustrated and willing to follow her no matter what. She'd made Ashley focus on what was important. It was as much about self-control as anything else. Could Ashley resist, not just the call of desire, but also her pride? Could she be as calculating as she would need to be, to be Shepard's equal?

That was it. That was the final piece. Shepard had seen something in her, some capacity that she hadn't found even in the perfect specimen, Miranda Lawson. That was why she had persuaded her to take the final step. To undergo the operations that would upgrade her body to include the latest tech, developed by Cerberus, dangerous and untested apart from one great success. Shepard herself.

If it was true, it was a compliment that staggered Ashley. At the same time it filled her with fear. For Shepard to consider her worthy was powerful praise indeed. But she had been critical of Shepard's behaviour. They had disagreed on so many things, chief among them Cerberus. What expectations would Shepard have? Did she think that the power would make Ashley see the world as she did? Make the same choices that she did?

Ashley's eyelids drooped. She was so tired. She slept.


	2. Chapter 2

Ashley was barely breaking a sweat, but she kept her pace easy. Samantha was having a hard time keeping up. Another lap of the cargo bay and she'd be about done, Ashley thought. She could already hear the tell-tale wheeze that meant an asthma crisis was on the way. 

Ashley wasn't too pleased to bring her run to an end prematurely. She had yet to test the full extent of her upgraded physical capabilities, and could run for hours without tiring. The daily runs were more about getting some time alone with her thoughts, letting her mind clear, allowing her subconscious to process and throw up some new ideas. 

She wouldn't have minded company that left her to her thoughts, but she couldn't have Samantha die on her. She was the only one who could run the QEC properly. It was the only reason they were still in touch with the fleets around Earth, since the destruction of the mass relays. “I'm fine,” Samantha croaked between gasps of air, waving off Ashley's concern. She doubled over and coughed, then threw up a little on the deck.

Ashley had Samantha in her arms in a flash, sitting her down on a cargo crate. “Inhaler?” she asked, as Samantha shuddered and swallowed, her breath rasping.

“Weapons bench,” Samantha croaked out. Ashley retrieved it from where it lay on her towel and held it to Samantha's mouth when her hands proved too shaky to do it herself.

“You trying to prove something, Sam?” Ashley asked while Samantha held her the vapour in for long seconds, her chest puffed out, her back straight.

Samantha's breath shuddered out of her, but it came more freely this time. Ashley watched her gasp again, and tried to bring the inhaler to her mouth for another dose. Samantha batted her hand away. “I'm... fine,” she said, between heaving breaths. She wrapped her arms around herself and bent forward. Tears began to roll down her cheeks.

Ashley slid an arm around her shoulders. Samantha immediately leaned towards her, pressing against her side, unfolding an arm to pull herself closer. Ashley could feel Samantha's hot cheek through the thin fabric of her sports bra, the tears mingling with her sweat. “No,” said Ashley. “You're not. Want to tell me about it?”

“Shepard,” said Samantha quietly.

When she didn't elaborate, Ashley realised she would have to coax it out of her. “We'll find her,” Ashley replied, as confidently as she could manage. “We'll be back soon.”

Samantha looked up at Ashley mournfully. “No,” she replied. “Before. Shepard left. Left me. Us.”

Ashley started to understand. “You mean,” she said quietly, “Shepard took back all her... favours. From you and Liara and Tali and whoever else.”

Samantha nodded unhappily. “And I don't know why,” she said. “She didn't tell me why.”

Ashley knew. In the days before the final battle for Earth, Shepard had refilled the battered case where she stored the strange fruits of her bizarre hobby, when they weren't in use. She had recalled her lovers one by one, those that were aboard ship at any rate, taking away the buttplugs that she had taught them to cherish without explaining. She'd just told them it wouldn't be fair. That they didn't know what might happen when they reached Earth. Their protestations fell on deaf ears, and anyway they were too in awe, too submissive to argue much. 

Ashley figured that between them they hoped it was a temporary situation, that Shepard would return to take them into her care again, but Samantha seemed to be taking it particularly hard. She felt abandoned, betrayed even. She hadn't known Shepard for as long as the others, of course. It must have been overwhelming, to be thrust from the hypotheticals of laboratory research into the devastating realities of war, the cold calculus of life and death. She would have latched on to Shepard's affection, made it central to her new life. To have that stripped away again, even though the war was officially over, must have brought all of her anxieties back to the surface.

Ashley sighed. She hadn't expected taking command of the Normandy to be like this. The military was supposed to operate like a well-oiled machine. She knew the system had its faults, of course. She'd had to follow her share of incomprehensible orders, situations where the generals in charge were too far removed from the field, or some green lieutenant decided they were all going to be heroes today. But by and large, people got the job done.

She seemed to spend half her time reassuring people. They couldn't quite believe that the war was over, or they were just starting to appreciate the scale of the losses that they had suffered. Joker had been the hardest hit. He had been monosyllabic and withdrawn since EDI's deactivation, but at least he was still piloting the ship. It was difficult to get him out of that chair, though. He seemed to be willing to spend the rest of his days sitting silently in the cockpit, watching the FTL aurorae.

Ashley had had no idea how Shepard managed to be every crewman's best friend, their rock, their indefatigable leader, and still find time to maintain a network of devoted women that spanned the galaxy. Until the upgrades, that was. She had found that she could get by on less sleep. Her mind was sharper, less addled by fatigue, less blunted by stress. It was like being on some designer drug. Her mind was open to new possibilities. It was easier to think logically about things. Certainty was easier to come by, when you were able to trust your own thoughts, when you could reliably untangle anger and prejudice from objective facts.

She wondered if it had been like this for Shepard. If waking up in a Cerberus facility with this new-found clarity had changed her, or if it had just let her explore her own mind free of physical limitations. If Ashley had been put into the same situation, would she have made the same choices? She didn't know. 

One thought that relieved her, though, was that Shepard had been weird even before she had worked with Cerberus. The urge to gather a harem of butt-plugged girls was by no means the inevitable outcome of opting for the upgrades. That was on Shepard. Ashley realised, however, that if she was going to be in charge from now on, the fallout from the gradual disintegration of Shepard's fan-girl network would have to be dealt with, before there were any consequences more serious than a bout of asthma.

“Come up to my cabin,” Ashley told Samantha. “There's something I think you should see.”

They spent the long ride in the elevator in silence that Ashley found comfortable, although the embarrassment and sorrow radiating from Samantha was almost palpable. From the corner of her eye, Ashley could see her fidgeting nervously, clamping down on the urge to ask questions.

She cracked finally, just as they stepped out the elevator. “Your cabin?” Samantha asked pointedly.

Ashley looked at her for a long moment, no mercy in her gaze. “For now,” she said, finally. “Maybe for the forseeable.”

“She's not dead,” Samantha stated. She hadn't yet left the elevator to join Ashley in the small foyer outside the captain's cabin. Her cabin.

“She's not,” Ashley agreed. She didn't want to entertain the possibility, either. “But you need to see this.”

Samantha uncrossed her arms and followed Ashley inside. The cabin was largely unchanged from the last time she had visited. The only difference was Ashley's blue armor hanging where Shepard's used to be. Samantha's gaze carefully avoided that corner after having flickered over it briefly. The ornaments, the fish, the hamster cage, all were well-kept and in their usual places.

The crate that served as the spring-board for Shepard's imagination was also in its usual spot, in a niche just behind the bed. Ashley fetched it down and brought it to the coffee table. It was nothing to her. Samantha could barely have moved the heavy box.

“Sit,” Ashley ordered. Samantha sat in front of the crate. Ashley triggered the opening mechanism.

“You're not supposed to... only Shepard...” Samantha began, sounding confused, as the box flowered open to display the strange fruits in their little foam niches, nearly all occupied. “Oh. She gave you access. She gave you... the box?”

Samantha sounded tentative, uncertain, but Ashley thought there was an element of hope in her voice. “How much do you know about it, Sam?” Ashley asked.

Samantha was scanning the contents, reading the labels next to each butt-plug. “I know I'm not the only one, of course,” she replied. “But I had no idea there were so many.”

Ashley took a seat next to her. “I don't think they were all used, you know,” she said. “I think this is just one way she has of looking at the world. Of making sense of her desires, and of people.” Ashley indicated the two niches, side by side, where her own pair of plugs lay. “For example, she had two made for me.” She pulled them out and showed them to Samantha.

“Lucky girl,” whispered Samantha with a shy, rueful smile. She reached tentatively for the smaller, smooth one, touching a finger to it's rounded tip. Her hand drifted over to the other one, the flanged, ridged, slightly fragrant monstrosity. She seemed uncertain whether to touch it or not.

“Have a closer look,” Ashley suggested. She picked it up and deposited it in Samantha's warm hands. 

Samantha blushed as she felt the weight of the huge ugly plug. She sniffed it cautiously. Her eyes on Ashley, she raised it slowly to her lips and kissed the end of it, leaving the tiniest trace of saliva on the tip. She grinned openly. “Spicy,” she said. The plug had a chili coating to enhance the discomfort of wearing it. “You must have really upset her.”

Ashley rolled her eyes and sat back. “So everyone keeps telling me,” she said. “You get it then? You don't think it's weird that she did this, instead of, I don't know, talking about her feelings?” She pulled out a small, smooth, light plug from another niche and handled it idly, rolling it from palm to palm.

Samantha's eyes followed her hands. In Ashley's hands was the plug she had worn for Shepard. At first only for an hour or so a day, but gradually working her way up to wearing it all the time, except for bathroom breaks. Every time Shepard had smiled at her, that knowing quirk of her cheek, sharing the secret together, she had felt so warm inside, so appreciated. And the others too, who also had their own relationships with Shepard, they made her feel accepted into the active duty crew, a role she had never trained for nor anticipated ever performing.

As she explained all this to Ashley, her eyes never left the plug in her hands. Even now it had a powerful hold on her, as if Shepard had invested it with her will, her powers. Her love, even. Ashley had imagined it would be a powerful connection, and wasn't surprised by the emotion Samantha displayed. Her own attraction to Shepard had been powerful enough. She could only imagine what it would have become, had it ever been bound up in the peculiar dance of plugger and plugee.

Chastity had been intense enough. She'd felt special for a while, until she'd found out that Shepard also kept Miranda that way. She put Samantha's plug back in its niche. “She never did it to me herself, you know,” she said. “Miranda put the nasty one in me once.” She took it back from Samantha, who was resting it on her lap, her hands locked around its narrow neck. “But I think it was because Shepard told her to.”

“You know, Shepard thinks you're special,” Samantha blurted out, her empty hands clutching at each other, tight in her lap.

“I figured,” said Ashley. “But I haven't been able to understand why. I mean sure, she trusts me with her stuff. With the crew. In a fight. But special?”

“She said something once,” Samantha replied. “She said she wished she could go back and do things differently. She said... she said you made her think twice, sometimes. Everybody else, she can tell. You? She has to show.”

Ashley felt a surge of pride welling up inside her and tried to fight it down. Her pride had led her to arrogance, before. She controlled that now. Shepard had taught her how. The upgrades just made it easier. Finally, she laughed it off. “Because I'm just as stubborn as she is, I guess. Keep looking,” she said to Samantha, indicating the rack in front of them.

Samantha explored the box further, reading the names on all the labels, counting those missing and comparing them to what she knew. Speculating as to which had seen service, and which had just been expressions of Shepard's feelings, her anger or her lust. They both doubted that Hannah Shepard knew about her daughter's hobby, but there was a plug there for her nonetheless. Exhausting the visible array, she swivelled the racks aside to reveal the orderly arrays of accessories; lubricants, disinfectants, polish. 

Beneath those, an encrypted tablet to which Ashley had the codes, filled with diagrams and designs, sketches annotated with what amounted to diary entries. Shepard's heart and soul, poured into the descriptions of plugs that were, plugs that might be. Whether each nodule and ridge might confer pleasure or pain or a delicious combination, whether a plug was designed to be worn for a long time, or used as a punctual attitude adjuster. 

Back, beyond anything that Ashley had had the time to look at already, she and Samantha studied the earliest entries, simple, classic designs, heavily annotated with references to anatomical texts and featuring names neither of them knew. Shepard's desires were writ large at every stage, but a theme was present even then.

Shepard wanted to teach the world a lesson. They both came to the realisation at the same time, sharing a long look as they studied the very first entry, the thesis of it bold, lacking the nuance that came later, strident and uncompromising. A plug for 'The General', name unspecified, a classic design, the goal defined in a scribble as 'a permanent reminder', that 'not just grunts know sacrifice'.

Whether Shepard still held to that old theory, they couldn't know. But they had a better idea of where she came from. “She never wanted to lose sight of who she was,” said Samantha. “Just another soldier.”

Ashley felt her emotions churning at a distance. She knew now what it was all about. Would Samantha understand? “There's one more thing,” she said. She applied her finger to the hinges where the racks swivelled aside to allow access. Beneath the mechanism was a hidden compartment, coded to her biometrics. The two halves clicked open sideways, and a small platform levered up. The racks of plugs, spread like wings, the arrayed accessories conspiring to look like a feathered body... the final egg presented itself.

The label below it said simply: Shepard.

Samantha stared at it in confusion. “But...?” she said, looking up at Ashley.

Ashley looked at her sympathetically. It had been difficult for her to understand, even with her new-found clarity. Samantha was smarter than her, no doubt, but her mind was clouded by her obsession with Shepard and her desire to serve. How could she make her understand?

She pulled the final plug out of its socket and handled it. Smooth and simple in design, it was a tad larger than the ones Shepard had designed for long-term wear, but not grossly so. Ashley rolled and squeezed it between her hands.

Glancing up at Samantha, Ashley saw that she was trembling. “It looks to me,” Ashley said, “that Shepard didn't just leave me in charge of her crew.” She balanced the plug on its end on her outstretched palm. “So if I wanted to,” she continued, “I could use this on you. You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

“But it's not mine,” Samantha replied, unable to take her eyes off the plug. “It's not right.” Her shoulders were shaking.

“I make the rules now, Sam,” said Ashley. She took Samantha's hand and placed it on top of the plug. Then she closed her own around it, making Samantha grip it. “You want it, don't you? You want that feeling again. You want to be special.”

“No!” Samantha surprised Ashley with the force of her refusal. She tried to pull her hand away, but Ashley's grip was firm. “Not like this!”

Ashley smiled as she released Samantha's hands. She might not understand, but if she could overcome her desires, then perhaps she was ready for the next step. “Still loyal to her, I see,” said Ashley. She returned the buttplug to its foam niche, and busied herself folding away the racks and closing the storage case. She relaxed back in her seat. “You know, I think this means it's all over. I can't see myself taking up Shepard's hobby. Oh, when we find her, maybe I'll give her what she wants. I mean, that's the message here, right? I'll be her boss for a while. I'll plug her up good. She's earned it. But the rest of you?”

Ashley looked hard at Samantha, who stared defiantly back. She let a smile creep up the side of her mouth, and she realised as she was doing it, it was Shepard's quirky little smile. The one that mocked you and adored you at the same time. She stood and strode over to her gear, rummaging through it. She returned to Samantha, and crouched in front of her. She held her hands with fingers spread, a scrap of silver draped across them. “Tell me Samantha,” she said, “how would you like to learn about chastity?”

Samantha's eyes widened. She reached out a finger to touch the pliant material. “Um...” she said. “Tell me more?”

Ashley smiled, and settled in next to Samantha, letting her muscular arm enclose her narrow shoulders, and began to whisper in her ear.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An epilogue to the series.

Shepard floated. She was familiar enough with the prelude to consciousness that she wasn't in any rush to open her eyes. One thing usually led to another, and the next thing, and before she knew it, she'd be casting the dice again. Dooming a race or burning a world. It was better just to stay adrift as long as she could. That way no one could dump another steaming pile of responsibility on her shoulders.

Damn it. Shepard was aware of an insistent pressure at her shoulders. It was too late. She was waking up. She shrugged irritably. A frisson quivered down her spine and warmth spread to her extremities. It was too early to be sure, but it felt like everything was accounted for, down to the last digit. She felt hot.

She saw light, and heard her name. Damn it. Was that Miranda? Her heart raced. Another reboot? Couldn't they just let her rest? She'd given all she had to give already. 

Shepard drifted for some unknown length of time. When she surfaced again, it was as if into a nightmare. A committee meeting, to be precise. She was afraid that her turn to speak would be next.

Williams was chairing. Steel in her eyes. Hair in a tight bun. Shepard could see the muscles of her throat rippling at the open neck of her snug uniform before she could hear what she was saying. Shepard cast her gaze around. Everyone was ignoring her, paying attention exclusively to Ashley. The women were standing around the conference table, smartly turned out, rigidly at attention.

"... satisfactory so far. Lawson, you need to bring it up a notch. T'Soni, a couple more sessions to make sure, then switch to the other foot. That's all."

The meeting broke up. Shepard watched Ashley's overdeveloped legs marching out and felt a vague sense of pride. She supposed she should leave too. She couldn't move. Then she realised what was wrong with her perspective. She was up high, above everybody else's eyeline. She was dead. That had to be the explanation. She was dead and she was haunting the Normandy's medical bay?

"..." Shepard croaked. It felt like she hadn't used her voice in a while.

"Shepard?" Miranda popped into her line of sight. "Let me get you some water." Miranda pressed a sponge to her lips.

Shepard moistened her lips and let the water wet her tongue. Miranda replaced the sponge twice before Shepard tried to speak again. "What's... what's happening?" she asked. "Am I dead? Again?"

Miranda smiled patronisingly. "Not this time," she replied. "Some short-term memory issues, though. You're aboard the Normandy. Have you been awake long? We just finished the daily meeting of the rehabilitation committee."

"Can't move," Shepard complained. "Am I broken?"

"Not so much any more, not physically," Miranda replied. "Captain Williams is overseeing the rehab protocol."

Captain? Shepard supposed it could be possible. She'd always known Ashley had potential. And indeed, Miranda was resplendent in an Alliance shipboard uniform. Ashley must have recruited her, finally, something that Shepard had never quite managed to do. "How long?" she asked.

"A couple of months," said Miranda. "Now if you don't mind, my numbers aren't where they should be. I have to run a sequence on you or the Captain'll have my arse."

Shepard wasn't aware of it, but she must have been doing her thing with the eyebrow.

"Still perfect," smirked Miranda, patting herself on the butt. "Thanks for asking." 

Then she dropped away as Shepard's view rose even higher. Now she could only see the top of Miranda's head, her hair tied back in a regulation pony-tail. Miranda fiddled with her omni-tool and looked up at Shepard, grinning.

"Here's to short-term memory loss," she said. "Sequence ninety-four, start recording." Then she began to nuzzle around Shepard's nipple with her lips.

Shepard quivered uncontrollably as Miranda held off from the target as long as possible. She felt a flush of excitement as Miranda popped the hard nub into her mouth finally. She was by turns delicate and firm with her tongue, alternating wet heat, suction, and the occasional nip with her teeth that bordered on painful.

Shepard was no stranger to having her breasts worshipped, but this was something else. Her whole body was responding, aching with need from the simplest of manipulations. She was sweating all over. She wanted to grab Miranda by the back of the neck and dig her fingers into the soft fuzz of hair back there. It was so nearly enough, even as it was too much to bear. Shepard grit her teeth against the oncoming loss of control that she could feel approaching.

But Miranda retreated before Shepard could get there, spit shining her lips, and consulted her omni-tool. "Better," she said. "Thank you, Shepard. Good girl."

Shepard felt her body sag as the stimulation ended. Her body shuddered once or twice as adrenaline spent itself. Miranda wiped her face on a towel and started tapping out a report. "What the hell...?" asked Shepard.

Miranda looked up. "Your mind doesn't hold on to things just yet, Shepard," she explained. "You're getting better, although chances are you won't remember this conversation in five minutes. In the meantime, we're using your body as a work-around. Training the autonomics. The theory is, if your body acquires reflexes, that'll reinforce memory creation and retention." She grinned as she wiped Shepard's breast off with a sponge. "Rinse and repeat."

Shepard had a lot to think about. She dozed. She returned to awareness with a jolt. She wanted to kick and buck and scream, but she couldn't draw breath. The space between the littlest toes on her left foot was being violated. She couldn't move her foot, it was locked in place with her toes spread wide. Vulnerable to the feather-light touch of...

"Shepard!" said Liara, popping up in her vision. "It is good to see you again. I do enjoy these sessions so much more when you are awake."

She brandished a feather and dropped out of sight again.

Shepard's respite was short-lived as Liara went to work again. The tickling was too intense, it was something other than painful. Shepard's body was out of her control. She was tense and burning all over. Out of nowhere her orgasm took away the world, waves of pleasure firing from her core to the roots of her hair. She felt the continued stimulation of the feather abstractly, and her ecstasy was unabated as the moments stretched out. The passage of each frond seemed to align with a new throb of joy, and the feather was so very long...

Some time later Liara rose again, her face flushed and her breathing heavy. Shepard lolled in her restraints, surfing the wave of endorphins. Liara looked at Shepard with hunger. Shepard smiled back lazily.

"I shouldn't, but..." Liara dipped closer and kissed the corner of Shepard's mouth. "You taste so good. Your pleasure is my reward. Such a good girl. We start on the other foot tomorrow."

Shepard drifted off again. When she came to, Traynor was watching her. 

"Good," said Samantha. "I'd heard you were awake. Shall we begin?"

Shepard thought that Samantha seemed upset. "What's the matter, Sam?" she asked.

"Nothing!" Samantha squeaked. "Nothing. Lots to do. Best job ever, actually."

"You can't even stand still," Shepard replied.

Samantha was quivering all over. "I'm fine!" she insisted. "Totally fine. Maybe just a chill. Or a fever." She looked unhappy.

"You can tell me, squirt," said Shepard. "Unless I don't outrank you any more?"

Samantha was desperate to talk about it. "OK! Fine! You won't remember anyway."

Shepard was confused, but thought it better to let Samantha get it out without any interruptions. She was a little shocked when Samantha undid her uniform to show off her underwear.

"Ring any bells?" said Samantha, accusingly. Her silver panties looked smooth and tight. Shepard knew what they were at once, but stifled a laugh. "She's got us all wearing them! I wish I'd never agreed to it. Now I can't back out, or she won't let me near you. I don't know what on earth she thinks she's doing. This whole thing is probably just one huge power trip!" Samantha's lip began to quiver. "And I haven't... she hasn't let me..."

Shepard just wanted to gather up Samantha in her arms and comfort her. "It'll be OK," she said. "Trust me."

Samantha got a grip on herself. She dried her eyes on the sleeve of her uniform and snorted cynically. "Sorry about that," she said. She composed her features to a neutral expression. "Shall we begin?"

Shepard could never have imagined that a single finger stroking the inside of her elbow could provoke such fire in her veins. Something about Samantha's smooth brow furrowing harder and harder as she became clearly more aroused herself, made Shepard rise to even greater heights.

"Come for me Shepard," whispered Samantha. "Be a good girl." Shepard was lost, again.

When she was next aware, it was night time aboard ship. Ashley Williams was loafing on a chair, watching her.

"Good," said Ashley. "I hate the way you look when you're out of it. Like a cow or something."

"Williams," said Shepard. "I'm alive?"

"We pulled you out of the shit, skipper," said Ashley. "And we put you back together. Still working on getting your head straight."

"What does that mean?" asked Shepard. "Is it because of the stuff I did, before? God, it seems so childish now. All those games I used to play. Fucking with all your heads. Hey, why can't I move?"

Ashley got up and approached Shepard. She throbbed with energy, Shepard could see it in her eyes. But it was all under tight control. Ashley moved gracefully, but economically.

Ashley smiled. There was real warmth behind it, Shepard's old friend showing through the years of harrowing experiences. "I'll let you go when your training's done," she said. "But here's the short version. You got hit on the head. Your old... circle? are here. Helping."

"I used to call them my 'packers'," said Shepard, reminiscing. "You too. You liked it, didn't you?"

"But what I like better," said Ashley, "is making a difference." She flexed her enhanced muscles. "Thanks for teaching me that."

"I knew you had it in you," Shepard mumbled.

Ashley patted her on the cheek ungently. "Hey, don't go to sleep on me already," she said. "We usually get a bit further along."

Shepard opened her eyes wide. "Memories?"

"Some issues," Ashley replied. "Don't worry, we're working on it. I got the idea from your notebooks, actually. Maybe you meant for me to find it, I don't know. Maybe you're still pulling my strings. Doesn't matter."

"The omega protocol?" Shepard asked, a hint of panic in her voice.

Ashley looked at her sharply. "You _are_ getting better," she said.

"I never tested it," said Shepard. She'd only fantasized about it. About bending someone so completely to her will, training reflexes into them that would make them completely dependent. And in idle moments, she'd speculated about finding someone so powerful that they could implement it on her. Ashley, for all her strength, all her potential, hadn't seemed like a candidate.

"It's working well so far," said Ashley. "I probably couldn't have done it on my own. But you gave me a whole team. Thanks, skipper."

Shepard's eyelids drooped again. She fought to keep them open.

"I had a lot of time to think, you know?" Ashley was saying. "And I realised, I was kind of infatuated with you. I had to get over that. So I decided..."

There was a gap in Shepard's perception, but Ashley was still speaking. "... Liara really has a thing for human feet. Who knew? And Traynor. Oh my god. I never met anyone so much fun to wind up. She appreciates it too, even if she whines about it some. I've got them going weeks at time in those panties..."

"...made a lot of hard calls, skipper. I respect that. So this is right, right? You don't have to make any more. Not while I'm around. I mean, I don't know if we'll hit the actual 'omega point' you told me about yesterday, but we'll come close..."

"... nightmares are still coming, but we have each other, right? Maybe we shouldn't, but we kind of feel like... if we can fix you, it'll fix us too. I don't know, it sounds kind of dumb. I'd ask a psychologist but I don't think we need that kind of..."

"...time you got some rest. Ready?"

Shepard was suddenly fully alert again. "Williams? What's going on? Why can't I move?"

Ashley's lips were at her ear, whispering. "Shh. Don't worry. You're a good girl. Such a good girl."

Shepard felt heat rise within her, a huge bubble of pride growing in her chest, bursting. She came and came, Ashley's voice echoing in her mind "...good girl good girl good girl..."

Ashley smiled as she watched Shepard consumed by pleasure, writhing against the restraints that kept her strapped to the bed. Shepard's short term memory was improving. While it was still fragile, Ashley had taken the opportunity to extract Shepard's deepest secrets, so that she could give her the perfect reward. Nothing she could ever ask for. Everything she ever wanted. 

Ashley felt a pang of jealousy, but it was washed out by pride as she watched Shepard's features relax into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
